


(The Magician)

by Cloudburst_Ink, DianaCloudburst (Cloudburst_Ink)



Series: Like a Land of Dreams [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beach, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Deruned Alec Lightwood, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mortal Magnus Bane, Prompt Fill, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Tension, Tarot Challenge, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23066185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudburst_Ink/pseuds/Cloudburst_Ink, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudburst_Ink/pseuds/DianaCloudburst
Summary: Shadowhunters Tarot Challenge - Week 101 - The Magician~*~After his deruning and exile, Alec flees to the island of Saint Thomas, where no one can track him and he's unlikely to run into any stray, angry Downworlders or demons eager to take advantage of a nephilim outside of the Clave's protection.Of course, nothing in Alec's life can ever go smoothly. Within his first two weeks there, his plans to wallow in drunken loneliness on the beach until his inevitable demise meet an unexpected hitch—Magnus Bane.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Series: Like a Land of Dreams [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664221
Comments: 37
Kudos: 207
Collections: Shadowhunters Tarot Challenge





	1. A Beautiful Stranger in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Good morning everyone! There will be no Speak/Hush this week, as I'm unfortunately a bit under the weather. I have, however, been working on a fic for the Shadowhunters Tarot Challenge, so here it is! I hope that this is enough to tide you over until next week, when we return to see what our boys are up to in Speak/Hush. 🖤
> 
> ~*~
> 
> Want to read this story with extra features like pretty formatting and mood music? [Check it out at Cloudburst.Ink](http://cloudburst.ink/2020-tarot-1//)!

**_February_ **

The glowing ember on the tip of Alec’s cigarette was the only light on the entirety of an otherwise vacant beach. There was nothing but untouched sand and blanketing darkness to his right, stretching between him and the distant flickers of torches that decorated the neighboring resort’s oceanside bar. It was far enough away that he could only vaguely hear the drifting din of laughter and clinking glasses, fading in and out beneath the steady murmur of the waves like a half-forgotten dream. It was the echo of someone else’s night—their vacation-fueled reverie almost as foreign to him as the island once was, though this particular corner of it already felt almost as familiar as New York. To his left, the shoreline jutted forward in a steep, rocky outcrop that completely separated his tiny swathe solitude from the rest of the island.

There was nothing here but water, rustling palm leaves, and the whisper of sand over rock.

“Spare a light?”

The voice that came from behind him was silky smooth, quiet words carried past his ears on the faint breeze and then off into the endless expanse of the Caribbean Sea beyond. He almost didn’t hear it at all. His mind was nearly convinced it was a moon-fueled mirage.

He sighed as he accepted the reality of the intrusion, mourning the loss of his solitude.  _ This is a private beach _ , he readied himself to snap.  _ Fuck off. _ Drinking always made him mopey and irritable—even more so than usual. Making matters worse, his half-burned cigarette hadn’t yet sated his strong craving for nicotine, adding a sharp edge to his every sensation. But when he turned to confront the trespasser, his words died on his lips.

In front of him stood the most breathtakingly gorgeous man he’d ever seen. The sides of his head were close-shaved, the long hair at the top styled upward with gravity-defying finesse. He wore dark eyeliner and shadow that Alec could only barely see under the faint illumination of the crescent moon. His makeup highlighted the unusual gold hue of his irises, which flashed like polished labradorite in the starlight. His loose blue shirt was sheer, and left little to the imagination regardless, hanging open at the front almost to his navel. Alec’s gaze couldn’t help but follow the path of unclasped buttons downward to his skin-tight black pants. He snapped his eyes quickly back to the man’s face, glad that his blush would be hidden in the darkness that blanketed the world around them.

The man smirked knowingly.

“Uh, sure—yeah.” Alec fumbled his lighter from his pocket. He held it out, but the man only leaned forward, holding his cigarette to his mouth with one expectant eyebrow raised. Alec swallowed the sudden tension that tightened his throat. “Oh, right—uh, here.” He stepped into the man’s space, stumbling a bit on the uneven sand, then flicked his lighter to life on the tip of the rolled paper at his lips.

“Thanks,” the man said, taking a deep drag. He turned away from Alec and stared back out over the ocean. His thin linen shirt fluttered when the wind changed direction. “My name is Magnus.”

Alec realized he was staring. He felt all of a sudden very self-conscious in his lazy black sweats and tank top. He had not brought much with him when he moved. He had not owned very much to bring in the first place, and he hadn’t exactly had time to pack.

“I’m Alec—Alexander,” he croaked. His voice was slightly hoarse from disuse. He had not spoken aloud to anyone since he first set foot on the island almost two weeks before.

Magnus’s eyes were on Alec again, and Alec couldn’t breathe. Even though he could barely see them in the darkness, he could tell they were stunning.

“What brings you to Saint Thomas, Alexander?” Magnus asked.

“I’m gay,” Alec said quietly, entranced. Magnus chuckled, and heat rushed very suddenly to Alec’s cheeks. He hadn’t meant to say that. He was grateful once again, for the little bit of shelter that the nighttime provided him to hide his flushed cheeks. Clearly the fifth of tequila he had half-drained earlier was still clouding his mind—the world around him felt warm and hazy, like a distant dream he had already begun to forget.

“Thank you for sharing,” Magnus said, amusement clear in his tone.

“Uh—that’s not what I—I mean, I just moved here,” Alec stuttered. He hadn’t really practiced yet what he was going to tell people when they asked about his past. A bitter, self-loathing part of his mind had convinced him that he would never talk to anyone again, anyway, so it didn’t matter. It had worked out fine for the past few weeks, but clearly he needed to rethink that strategy. He had never been very good at straddling the fragile line between truth and omission that was required to tell a convincing lie.

It probably didn’t matter, he realized. Most people came here on vacation, stayed for a few days, or maybe a few weeks, and then left. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “My, uh, family—they found out that I’m gay. It didn’t go well. I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I guess it’s a sort of exile.” He felt strange using that word— _ exile _ . It hit a little too close to home. A wave of anxious regret washed over him, crashing with the same power and unrelenting velocity as the ones that steadily eroded the shoreline in front of them. Alec sank down to the sand and stretched his legs out. He was far too drunk for this. “Sorry,” he grumbled. “That was probably too much information.”

He returned to staring at the water, as he had been before the beautiful stranger had interrupted his daily scheduled drunken, lonely spiral of self-pity. Moonlight shimmered in pale, scattered shards over the waves, a broken reflection that danced and tumbled with the pulse of the ocean. Alec’s toes sank into the sand, warm on the surface but cool just underneath when he buried his feet in it. The faint sea breeze ruffled his hair, crunchy with salt and humidity, and the loose messy black curls tickled as they fell into his face—he was far too long overdue for a haircut. He focused on the smoky, harsh burn in his lungs when he inhaled, and the starchy taste of paper on his lips. Cigarette smoke reminded him of New York. It made him feel like he was back at home, even if only for a few minutes.

Alec startled when a smattering of sand dusted his legs as Magnus plopped to the ground beside him. He assumed he would have left already, grateful for the opportunity to back away and leave this messy, mopey stranger to wallow in solitude.

“Tell me about it,” Magnus prompted instead. Smoke curled from his mouth and nose, dissipating into the breezy night almost as quickly as it appeared. Alec blinked at him.

Then, to his surprise, he did.

It was easier than he thought it would be to bend the truth slightly, to change a detail here and a name there to make his life more palatable to mundane ears. Instead of the Clave, he mentioned a strict religious upbringing. He described the fleeting, single moment of weakness he had shared with Underhill (“another closeted member of his congregation”), and how someone had seen them, and it had all gone downhill from there.

He described how the island was as physically far away from his family as he could afford to get, which was true enough to be genuine. He couldn’t afford to live anywhere else. The shabby condo he occupied now had belonged to Hodge Starkweather before his untimely demise, so no one would be claiming it any time soon. Alec had a long way to go before he could afford his own place.

Magnus was an eager, active listener. He gasped when the story grew tense, murmured quiet comforts when it grew sad, and even drew a few laughs out of Alec with occasional well-timed, sassy remarks about Alec’s slightly altered description of the austere, unyielding council that had condemned him to his fate.

Alec spoke and spoke, until suddenly the only thing left to describe was his deruning.

He stopped there. He couldn’t lie about that. The scars that spanned his body were still too fresh, the memory of the pain too recent and raw. He realized that, in the dark, his mysterious new golden-eyed acquaintance likely could not see the pale lines that criss-crossed his arms and disappeared under the dark edges of his shirt. He decided that certain things, even to such an open-minded, gentle listener whom he might never see again, were better left unmentioned.

“Anyway,” he mumbled, “I ended up here. Sorry for wasting all your time. I didn’t mean to ramble so much.”

It was late. The beachside bar on the distant resort was closed, the echoes of laughter and music long since faded. He let the murmur of the ocean surge into the endless chasm of silence that opened up between them, and leaned back on his palms, cool sand shifting beneath his fingers.

“Oh Alexander,” Magnus murmured. “You are so far from a waste of time. Thank you for sharing your story with me.”

Alec suddenly realized how close they were sitting. The temperature had dropped as the hours crawled by, and goosebumps trailed between the scars on his arms. He could see the glowing tip of his cigarette reflecting in Magnus’s golden eyes, shimmering in vibrant, fiery tones. Heat surged through Alec’s veins—from the lingering effects of the tequila, from the smoke in his lungs, from the warm sea breeze and the smoldering heat of Magnus’s gaze on his.

“You’re not alone, you know,” Magnus whispered, and Alec believed him. His breath was warm on Alec’s face. It smelled of smoke and whiskey. Alec had the briefest of seconds to realize with some relief that Magnus was clearly just as drunk as he was. He tried to form some sort of response, but couldn’t—instead he was surprised to find tears stinging his eyes, and he was once again thankful for the cover of night.

Perhaps it was the sluggish headiness of the tequila and cigarettes, or the strange, insouciant high that always came with staying up far too late, or the lightheaded, floating relief of finally telling someone about everything that had happened to him and having them not only listen but  _ understand _ . Perhaps it was just drunkenness. Perhaps it was desperation. But Alec realized he was staring, his face only inches from this mysterious, beautiful stranger who had materialized out of the moonlight on the shadowed beach, and he decided he didn’t care.

Magnus leaned forward and kissed him.

His lips were soft and eager, and a thrill of heat zipped through Alec’s core like lightning, cutting straight through the alcohol and the sleepiness and the hypnotizing allure of Magnus’s eyes. For just a moment, everything felt  _ right _ .

Then reality came crashing back down.

He remembered the last time he had kissed someone—his first kiss ever. He thought of all of the dominos that had fallen, one after the other, into place as a result of that single, fateful mistake.

Alec was alone. He would be alone for the rest of his life.

This beautiful stranger would probably finish his vacation and go home to his family and friends with some fantastic story about a whirlwind romance on a Caribbean beach with a tortured soul, and he would remember it fondly for the rest of his life, while Alec remained here, in exile, by himself—hiding from demons and Downworlders and his own damn parents. Cast aside by the law he had dedicated his entire life to upholding.

Magnus felt him tense, and pulled back. “Alexander?” he asked, breathless. “Are you alright?”

Alec was not alright. He disentangled himself from Magnus’s arms and stood, sand cascading from the soft fabric of his sweatpants. “I can’t do this,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

“Alexander—”

Alec did not linger to hear whatever it was that Magnus had to say. He lumbered across the sand, tossing the extinguished butt of his cigarette carelessly into the shadows, and tuned out the beautiful, soft voice behind him that begged him to stay.

Alec was alone, and that would never change.

When he reached the smooth, cold tile of his porch, he finally turned back. The beautiful stranger still sat on the beach, facing out into the ocean. Pale moonlight highlighted his form, silhouetting him against the shadowed, silver sea.

Alec already regretted leaving. He ached to return to that moment, suspended in the haze of whispering waves and soft sand and breathtaking golden eyes. But the moment was gone. And when Alec looked back next, so was Magnus.

Perhaps it had been a drunken dream, after all.


	2. A Gentle Smile in the Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to read this story with extra features like pretty formatting and mood music? [Check it out at Cloudburst.Ink](http://cloudburst.ink/2020-tarot-1//)!

**_March_ **

Alec was sure he would never acclimate to the oppressive daytime heat of Saint Thomas. Even in the shade, a thin, clammy sheen of sweat clung to his body. He desperately needed to purchase some clothes that weren’t all black.

He had finished his breakfast a while ago, but he had nowhere to be. It was a novel, slightly disconcerting feeling. He still hadn’t even begun to get used to the troublesome aimlessness of having no responsibilities dragging him from bed at the crack of dawn, or keeping him awake until late into the night. Time trickled by sluggishly without the constant, frantic call of his duty to the Clave.

Alec remained at his table on the beachside, smiling gratefully at the waitress when she refilled his coffee, staring out at the azure, rippling waves and wondering what the hell he was going to do with his life. He had to get a job at some point. But for now, he sat at his quaint, aluminum beachside table and lit up another cigarette. He was learning how to hand-roll them. This one was a bit loose and awkward looking, but he was getting better.

“Fancy seeing you here, Alexander.” A familiar voice cleared his throat behind Alec, and he immediately regretted lingering so long at the cafe. He gripped the chipped yellow coffee mug a little more tightly to steady his hands before turning toward the interior of the cafe to meet the intruder’s eyes.

It was the same beautiful stranger from the beach. Had it really only been a few days? Maybe it had been a few weeks. Alec wasn’t sure. He didn’t even know what day it was, if he was being honest. He might have still been a bit drunk from his lonely pity party the night before, but the coffee and nicotine had mostly cleared his head.

“Hello, Magnus,” Alec greeted reluctantly. A scared, antisocial part of him was hoping he would never see the man again. Magnus would return to wherever he was vacationing from, and that night would be nothing but a blip in Alec’s slew of recent regrettable memories.

Alec knew he was lying to himself.

His eyes adjusted gradually from the blinding morning sun he had been staring into. Magnus looked just as beautiful in the daylight, his hair effortlessly styled, his makeup in perfect order despite the heat and humidity, his clothes lightweight and breathable but still classy, his eyes… 

His _eyes_.

Alec leapt to his feet, almost knocking his chair over. Magnus startled and stepped backwards, almost colliding with the unsuspecting waitress, who shot them a dirty look and scurried away.

“Alexander?” Magnus’s brows knit together in confusion. He held his hands up in hesitant defense. “It’s just me. We met on the beach the other night…?” He looked a bit frightened by the outburst, which Alec honestly found laughable considering the situation.

“You’re…” Alec stammered. “Your eyes. You’re a… you’re…”

Magnus’s pupils were slitted, like a cat’s. The breathtaking, magical gold hue that Alec had so dazedly admired in that hazy, alcohol-fueled night on the beach, illuminated by embers and moonlight, was his _warlock mark_. In the blazing light of day, it couldn’t be any clearer.

Magnus’s eyes widened, just unnatural enough to be disconcerting. “Oh,” he said. His surprise sounded genuine, and his posture relaxed. “You have the Sight.”

“I—” Alec paused.

Magnus didn’t know what he was. What he _used to be_ , he had to silently correct. The realization calmed him, if only slightly. The warlock hadn’t been following or tracking him. “Sorry, I just—I wasn’t expecting to see anyone… like you… here.”

Magnus’s eyes raked over Alec’s body, cataloguing the angry red scars and the completely atmospherically-inappropriate black clothing. That was definitely all he was looking at, Alec silently insisted to himself. Nothing more.

“You’re a nephilim,” Magnus surmised, his eyes narrowed.

It probably didn’t help that Alec had inadvertently shared his entire life story with him on the beach that night. It wouldn’t take much of a leap for someone familiar with the Shadow World to realize exactly what had happened to him.

Alec stumbled over a few nonsense syllables. He couldn’t seem to speak properly around this man, and the sudden suspicion clouding Magnus’s expression hurt more than he cared to admit. He inwardly scolded himself. What did he care what this guy thought of him? He was no one, a stranger.

Finally, he managed, “I don’t want any trouble.” He hated how quiet and meek he sounded. He hated being afraid. Alec knew he must look like a cornered animal, all panic and fear and wariness.

Magnus’s eyes softened. They fell again to the scars on Alec’s arms, searching, then widened slightly, and he seemed to decide something. “Darling,” he said quietly. “I’m not a monster. I’m just a person.” After a few awkward moments of silence, he added. “Do you have somewhere we can talk? Obviously we need to clear the air.” He glanced pointedly around the open, mundane-filled cafe.

Hesitantly, and against his better judgement, Alec nodded. He left a few bills on the table and followed Magnus out onto the narrow, winding street, then took the lead toward his building. Sunlight hammered against his skin, heating his black shirt until Alec gave up on trying to stay presentable and tugged it over his head. They were still beachside and plenty of other people were walking around shirtless, so he figured it was acceptable.

“I’m sorry I freaked out back there,” he said, draping his shirt over his shoulder. “The nature of islands inherently prevents most tracking methods, and this one has no werewolf pack, no vampire clan, and no High Warlock, as well as no recorded demon infestations, _ever_. It’s basically the ideal place for someone like me to lay low.”

He was met with silence. When he turned, he caught Magnus leering at his bare chest and abs. Magnus’s eyes darted sheepishly back upward, and Alec felt a new heat—one that had nothing to do with the tropical sunlight—spreading over his cheeks and neck. He missed the safety of nighttime, where his traitorous blushing wasn’t so painfully visible. Everything was more awkward now, strange and immediate, laid bare in the harsh honesty of daytime.

“You mean someone who has been cast out by the Clave,” Magnus clarified quietly, his expression growing serious.

Alec knew he had probably come to that conclusion already, but hearing the words still aloud still twisted his heart into painful, stilted shapes.

He met Magnus’s eyes, nodding subtly. They really were stunningly beautiful. In the late morning sunlight, they glittered like citrine. Now that Alec had gotten over the initial shock, the narrow pupils weren’t so jarring. He would even dare to call them pretty—only in the privacy of his own mind, of course.

“Yeah,” Alec confirmed. “I’m sure you can understand why coming unexpectedly face to face with a warlock was a bit unsettling for a moment. I know it’s common knowledge that someone like me is fair game for… well, you know. Whatever anyone wants to do, I guess.”

Alec had no real reason to believe that Magnus wouldn’t take advantage of his vulnerable state to kill him, or worse, as soon as they were alone. But he remembered how gentle and sympathetic the warlock was when they last spoke, and his words just before they left the cafe. _I’m not a monster._

Alec believed him.

His unit was on the ground floor of a run-down condominium building that the volatile island weather had long since begun to take its toll on. The white stucco walls were chipped and cracked, crumbling away to reveal grey cement beneath. Vaguely green smudges ran along the rough stone near the ground, where years of storm flooding had left faded layers of watery stains. They hovered there awkwardly, neither fully knowing what to say next.

“I’m not a warlock,” Magnus blurted. Alec shot him a curious glance, but Magnus only stared back, wide-eyed, as if he hadn’t expected to say the words aloud.

“But you have a warlock mark,” Alec countered hesitantly. What else could Magnus be?

Magnus sighed. “I _was_ a warlock,” he clarified. “I relinquished my magic to save a friend’s daughter. Now I can’t even glamour myself. It doesn’t usually matter with mundanes because they don’t have the Sight, but to everyone else I’m just walking around with a flashy target painted on my back—or I guess, my face. Magnus Bane, former High Warlock of Brooklyn, Son of the Prince of Hell. Easy pickings for anyone holding a grudge against myself or my father.” He took a breath, his brilliant eyes staring off toward the bright, rippling sea in the distance. “I guess the proper term for what I am now is an _ifrit_ , though most ifrits are born without magic, and I was born with quite a lot of it. Not to mention I no longer get the benefit of immortality.”

His voice cracked on the last word. He bit his lip, as if to hold in the rising tide of unspoken words that fought to be released.

There were so many bombs dropped in those few sentences that Alec didn’t even know where to start. Magnus had been the High Warlock of Brooklyn—the one assigned to liaison with the New York Institute, Alec’s childhood home. Alec wondered if that had been during his lifetime. Had he ever heard Magnus’s name, mentioned in passing? He didn’t think so.

But then there was everything else. Son of the Prince of Hell? And his magic was, what, just _gone_ ? What was Alec supposed to _do_ with that information?

He got so flustered that he ended up just saying, “Oh. Ok,” and then unlocked his door. Air conditioning washed over them both, chilling the perspiration that coated their skin. Alec almost moaned in relief. He was _not_ built for hot climates.

When the door closed behind them, Magnus seemed to relax, as if the eroded stone walls might protect them from any hidden, spying enemies lurking in the stifling, crowded streets outside.

“So,” Magnus prompted, as if some grand realization had just hit him. “Don’t you see? I’m here for the same reason _you_ are. I’m hiding out while I try to figure out how to get my magic back.”

Alec told himself to shrug it off. He intended to half-heartedly wish Magnus good luck on his quest and send him on his way with some vague, threatening demand not to ever mention Alec’s name to anyone else. The island was big enough for the two of them. They could just keep their heads down, stay out of each other’s way, and never mention that quiet, surreal night on the beach ever again.

Instead, he said, “I’ll help you,” and then it was his turn to stare at Magnus with wide, surprised eyes.

~*~

Magnus’s home was beautiful—and, surprisingly, barely a five minute walk up the hillside from Alec’s building. Alec had walked up and down the steep maze of streets a few times before knocking, double- and triple-checking that he had the right place.

The walls were a misty, pale blue, almost completely obscured by cedar beams and columns that framed the windows and supported the grey shingled roof. The windows themselves were gorgeous, too—vibrant stained glass panels depicting cerulean water and dark night skies, speckled with silvery slivers of fish and stars.

It was the most excessively styled home that Alec had seen on the island since his arrival. He supposed it made sense that it belonged to Magnus, with what little he had seen of the man so far.

Magnus answered the door in a baggy t-shirt and thin, eye-catchingly draped cotton pants. He wore no makeup, and his hair was swept lazily back behind his ear, rather than styled up. Alec’s breath caught in his throat. Somehow, Magnus was even more beautiful than the last two times he had seen him. He shoved the thought away quickly.

“You came,” Magnus noted with some surprise.

Alec shrugged. “I said I’d help, right?”

The truth was that Alec had absolutely nothing else to do. He had briefly looked around for jobs, and he would have to get back to that search eventually, but he didn’t have many marketable skills in the mundane world. Here, at least, he could be useful.

“Come on in, then,” Magnus beckoned. He looked stunned, and oddly vulnerable. Alec realized that Magnus genuinely hadn’t expected him to show up, even though they had made concrete plans for this exact time.

An unexpected wave of sadness tightened Alec’s chest, for once not directed toward himself. Had so many people let Magnus down that he really couldn’t imagine anyone actually following though, even for something as small as this? Alec might have been alone at the moment, but he had over two decades of his siblings’ unconditional support and love before that to keep him going when things got tough.

“Sorry I’m not exactly presentable,” Magnus was saying. “I’m afraid I wasn’t really expecting company…” He trailed off, like he was embarrassed to admit he had so little faith in other people.

“You look gorgeous,” Alec said, before he could stop himself. A hot blush rushed to his cheeks when Magnus froze for a moment before recovering himself. His entire demeanor changed, suddenly calculating and just a little bit predatory. Alec refused to acknowledge the tiny flips his stomach made.

“Thank you, Alexander,” Magnus purred. “Maybe if these studious mornings become a regular occurrence, I’ll dress down for you more often.” His eyes slid lazily down Alec’s body and Alec found himself to be suddenly, painfully self-conscious. Magnus’s smirk felt like sparks of fire scorching right through Alec’s barely-held together facade. 

Trying to save face, Alec cleared his throat and tugged at his collar. He had bought a few lightweight button-ups at the local market that he wore open, over thin cotton undershirts. They made the weather a bit more bearable, though he still refused to wear shorts. Today’s shirt was a sheer ochre color. He may or may not have been thinking of Magnus’s eyes when he put it on that morning.

“Right,” Alec stuttered. “So, um—tell me about what you’ve looked into so far?”

He wasn’t here to flirt, he was here to help. He just wanted to be useful. Soon he and Magnus would figure it all out, then Magnus would get his magic back and be on his merry way back to New York, or wherever else he wanted to go, and Alec would get some boring mundane job and carve out a life alone.

He just wanted something to break up the monotony of his new, pointless existence for a little while. That was all.

But, if he was being honest, Alec felt a strange sense of kinship with the beautiful, quirky, magicless warlock who wandered up to him on the beach one night, asking for a light.

“Of course,” Magnus agreed, his voice sultry and low. “Do come in. We have much to discuss.”


	3. A Breath of Peace in the Afternoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to read this story with extra features like pretty formatting and mood music? [Check it out at Cloudburst.Ink](http://cloudburst.ink/2020-tarot-1//)!

**_May_ **

Alec woke up slowly. One arm supported his head. His hair fluttered on the slight, unseen breeze of an overhead fan, and it made his head itch. He scratched lazily behind his ear, then realized, very suddenly, that he was not in bed.

Behind him, the metal clangor of pots and pans continued—the sound that had woken him up. He sat up slowly, taking in his surroundings with sleep-muddled confusion. The gently swirling air carried scents of sandalwood and the salt of the distant ocean below, and _coffee_ , and the fresh natural airiness of open windows. It smelled like he was Magnus’s house.

… because he _was_ in Magnus’s house. He must have fallen asleep at the coffee table. His legs were folded under him on the floor, a thick, soft-paged tome acting as a makeshift pillow. His cheek had been resting against the instructions for a very gruesome spell that would bestow magical powers in exchange for multiple violent blood sacrifices. It was decidedly _not_ what Magnus was looking for.

“Good morning, Alexander,” came Magnus’s silky, amused voice from behind him. “You know, if I knew you were going to stay the night, I’m sure I could have made room on my bed.”

Alec blushed. Magnus always did that—flirted his way through every awkward situation. Over the past couple months, it had become a staple of their time together. Magnus flirted, Alec blushed. Never anything more.

Alec often thought back to that night on the beach and wondered if Magnus regretted it—or if he even remembered it. They had never discussed it. Perhaps Magnus preferred it that way. Perhaps he regretted it, now that he knew what Alec was. Still, he seemed friendly enough when they spent their evenings together, perusing tomes and websites, writing letters and making phone calls.

“Sorry,” Alec mumbled. His voice was rough and low from sleep. “I didn’t mean to. I’ll—I’ll get out of your way. Really. Sorry.” He pushed himself unsteadily to his feet, still bleary-eyed. He could feel a rough, irritated spot on his skin where the corner of the book had dug in, and he knew he probably had a very unseemly red mark there.

Magnus, on the other hand, looked gorgeous. Magnus always looked gorgeous. He was still in his pyjamas—cozy purple plaid pants and— _angels above_ —no shirt.

Alec blinked a few times, completely at a loss for words. He had to avert his eyes.

“Nonsense,” Magnus waved off his apologies. “I was just making some coffee. How do you like it? And no flirting with me, Alexander, as easy as that opportunity is. I know how you get.” Magnus winked.

Alec stuttered wordlessly for a moment. “I—uh—what?”

“Relax. It was a joke. Clearly you’re not a morning person,” Magnus smirked. He set a steaming mug on the kitchen island between them, pushing it in Alec’s direction.

“Thanks,” Alec mumbled. “And sorry again.”

“Darling, you really need to stop apologizing for helping me.”

Alec hadn’t really thought of it that way. He claimed the coffee gratefully and took a seat at the barstool facing the countertop. “It’s not like I’ve really been of any use,” he grumbled.

It was true. He and Magnus had hit dead end after dead end. Magnus had given up last night after a particularly promising contact had fallen through. He had gone to bed in somber resignation, leaving Alec to lock up behind himself when he left. Alec wasn’t sure when they had gotten so comfortable around each other. But this—falling asleep here, getting to see Magnus completely unstyled and _almost_ completely undressed—this was new.

Magnus slid the scrambled eggs he had been fussing over from the pan, dividing them between two plates and stacking slices of toast beside them. He handed a plate to Alec, his lips pressed together like he wanted to say something and was struggling to hold it back. He always looked that way when his thoughts were wandering somewhere brilliant or absurd.

“Shall we eat on the veranda?” Without waiting for an answer, Magnus led the way through the glass doors on the back of the house. The deck was shaded, with a spectacular view of the dazzling water down the hill. Alec had to momentarily shield his eyes from the sun’s blinding reflection winking back up at him.

When they took their seats, Magnus still had that ominous expression, and Alec had to know.

“What?” Alec asked warily. “You’ve got that look.”

Magnus’s eyes lit up. Alec couldn’t help but notice how beautiful they were when Magnus got excited about something—especially something mischievous. He silently scolded himself. Magnus was only here until they got his magic back. There was no point in getting too attached.

“I was just thinking,” Magnus ventured. He dragged the words out the way he did when he was suggesting something he knew Alec would roll his eyes at. “Maybe the reason you’re helping me is because you have no idea what else to do with yourself. I mean, the mundane world must be entirely new to you, right? It must be terrifying to be out on your own all of a sudden, with no purpose and no support.”

Alec stared down at his plate. He hated how close to home Magnus’s words hit. “That’s—I mean—I really do want to help you. You didn’t deserve what happened.” He fumbled in his pocket for a cigarette. He could roll them perfectly now, and kept them stashed in a sleek metal case that Magnus had bought for him.

Magnus’s hand suddenly covered his. It was warm and reassuring. Alec’s eyes shot up. Magnus was smiling, and it was sad, and knowing, and beautiful. “You didn’t deserve what happened to you either, darling.”

Alec swallowed, and nodded, and abandoned his search for his cigarette. They hadn’t so much as touched since that first night on the beach—the night when Magnus had kissed Alec, and Alec had just _fled_.

Alec wanted to lean in to the contact. He wanted to pull Magnus forward and kiss him, the morning sky alight with soft pastel hues over their heads, the waves crashing and the gulls cawing and the wind carrying their hair into their faces. But he couldn’t just _change his mind_ now. Magnus didn’t deserve that kind of whiplash. Magnus deserved better.

“So I was thinking,” Magnus was saying, “maybe I could introduce you to some of the finer sides of the mundane world. Take you out some evenings, explore some hobbies. It’s the least I can do to repay you for helping me with my own predicament.”

Dread crept its heavy, biting claws into Alec’s chest. His rumpled white t-shirt was no barrier against the ocean breeze, which suddenly felt much chillier. Was this Magnus’s polite, roundabout way of telling him to get a life and stop hanging around?

“You… you don’t have to do that,” Alec managed. “I can—I should probably just get a job, anyway. I’m going to run out of money eventually and I need to start getting used to being part of the mundane world on my own, I guess.”

Magnus’s hand was on Alec’s again, and Alec wanted to turn his palm face up to entwine their fingers together, but he resisted.

“Alexander,” Magnus sighed. “Let me help you. Please.”

When he put it that way, how could Alec refuse?

~*~

**_June_ **

This was the moment that Alec decided, once and for all, that his hair had grown much too long. It whipped around his face, stinging his eyes. Verdant trees slid by, and just to the left, the sparkling Caribbean Sea seemed to stand still and hold its breath as they cruised around hills and bends on the winding road.

Magnus’s red Maserati purred beneath them, so smooth it felt like they were flying. The top was down, and Alec had to hold his hand on his head to keep his hair out of the way so he could see. He was glad Magnus was driving. He didn’t know how to, anyway. Even in the months he had been living among mundanes, it had never occurred to him to learn.

Magnus laughed at him. Then he reached across Alec’s lap to the glove compartment, steering with one hand, and Alec’s breath caught in his throat. They were so _close_. Magnus’s shoulder pressed into his chest as he dug around, and it was all Alec could do not to wrap his arms around him.

“Here,” Magnus shouted over the wind, finally snapping the glove box closed and sitting up. He pressed a white baseball cap into Alec’s hands. “For your hair!”

Alec accepted the hat gratefully, donning it backwards and sweeping his loose waves up and out of the way. He wondered if Magnus ever wore this hat when he was out by himself. Imagining Magnus cruising around in a backwards baseball cap did things to him.

“Thanks,” Alec mumbled. “I need to get it cut.”

A tiny, playful smile danced across Magnus’s lips. “I like it this way,” he answered. Then, more quietly. “You’d be irresistible in a bun.” The wind stole his words just as quickly as they came out, and Alec wondered if he was supposed to hear them at all. He silently determined that his hair cut could wait a few more weeks.

They pulled off at a scenic view to sip their iced coffees and chat. They didn’t talk about their mission to get Magnus’s magic back, or Alec’s history as a Shadowhunter. It was the most relaxed Alec had felt since his deruning—maybe in his entire life.

The sun sparkled off of Magnus’s skin, which always seemed to be dusted with just a tiny bit of glitter that the ex-warlock could never quite be rid of—not that he tried to. He smiled as they talked, more than he had in all the time Alec had known him. It reached his eyes—his gorgeous, golden eyes that Alec could never seem to look away from. The view was beautiful.

The scenery was, too.

Alec wasn’t sure why exactly he suddenly changed his mind about the whole driving thing, but he found himself blurting, “Will you teach me how to drive?”

Magnus grinned “Of course, darling.” And Alec knew exactly why he had asked. Because he wanted to relive this moment again and again, as long as he could have it.

It was a different kind of happiness—one he had never felt before. It was unique to the small moments when Magnus smiled at him, or when they sat in silence and let the world live on without them while they watched, content—for a moment—to just exist…

A little white tuft of fluff floated by, carried by a halo of thin, pale strands that caught in the wind. Magnus said it was called a fairy—obviously not a real one, only named after them—and that Alec was supposed to catch it, make a wish, and release it.

Alec wished only for Magnus.

~*~

**_July_ **

Alec did not understand the point of swimming at first. What was the big deal about standing around in a bunch of water? It always seemed pointless to him.

Alec kind of understood the draw, now.

He was up to his chest in salty, clear beach water, wearing only a pair of dark blue swim trunks. He felt uncomfortably naked. He had never gone swimming as a kid, and as an adult he had much more important things to do, like lead the Institute. But apparently, mundanes used the practice as an excuse to hang out dripping wet in what was effectively just their underwear.

Which Alec was, now, completely on board with.

The ocean was blue and shimmering, a faint breeze offsetting the pleasant heat of the late afternoon sun. A dazzlingly colorful coral reef spanned the sea floor around them, teeming with all sorts of odd sea life that Alec had barely even known existed.

But Alec mostly just had eyes for Magnus. Magnus, barefooted and shining in the sand. Magnus, his unfairly perfect abs stretched out on a raft in the sunlight. Magnus, wading into the sea spray toward him with two cold, perspiring _Carib_ beers in hand—like the two of them just hanging out, drinking and chatting and sharing Alec’s cigarettes, was the most natural thing in the world.

Because somehow, after months of late nights and early mornings and leaning on each other when things got hard, it was.

Entire schools of tiny, silver-flashing fish darted across the sandy sea floor. If Alec stood too still, a few brave ones would come nibble at his feet. The first time it happened he hadn’t been paying attention, and he screeched like a little girl. Magnus laughed at him so hard that he fell off of his giant lemon slice shaped raft and into the water.

Alec caught him, then promptly got so flustered that he immediately dropped him straight into the breaking waves. Magnus emerged sputtering, his lovely cat eyes wide, brimming with astonished betrayal.

“Alexander!” he exclaimed. “You just _dunked_ me! Why would you do that?!”

“Sorry,” Alec blushed. He hoped the bright, hot sun was enough of an excuse for the scarlet that he knew must be creeping across his whole body. He didn’t answer Magnus’s question, because he didn’t want to lie, and the truth sounded something like _because you’re beautiful and I think I might be falling in love with you, and holding you so close to me like that was too overwhelming to bear without doing something about it_.

And he couldn’t just _say_ that. So he said nothing.

Magnus’s eyes glimmered, his outrage melting into something mischievous and knowing. “I bet I know what you’re thinking,” he purred.

Alec froze. “You—you do?”

Magnus slid closer to him, arms fanning out to steady himself in the waves. His floaty drifted back toward the beach, forgotten. “Oh, yes.” His voice was quiet, so Alec had to lean in to hear it over the rhythmic rush of water, wind, and gulls. Alec’s throat went dry. The proximity was intoxicating. A stray lock of hair had fallen loose from Alec’s hair tie, and Magnus swept it back behind his ear. Alec’s eyes flicked longingly over Magnus’s body—the tiny droplets of water sparkling on his muscled shoulders, his slim waist and toned abs and _fuck_ , Magnus was ghosting his hands up Alec’s chest and leaning in and all Alec could do was watch in a heady daze until—

Suddenly, his feet were swept out from under him, and he barely had time to gasp a lungful of air before he was submerged. Magnus’s strong arms pushed down on Alec’s shoulders, using them as leverage to flee to safety before Alec could drag him down too, cackling maniacally.

“You’re too easy, Alexander,” he crowed when Alec splashed back to the surface. He looked far too proud of himself.

“That wasn’t fair,” Alec grumbled.

“Why not?” Magnus batted his eyelashes up at him, smiling smugly. These days, he always acted like he knew some big secret Alec didn’t. It was infuriating.

Alec rolled his eyes and didn’t respond, paddling after Magnus toward the shoreline.

~*~

  
  


**_August_ **

Alec stood on Magnus’s deck alone, staring out over the ocean. The railing beneath his hand was unfinished, an irregularity against the rest of the stained, finished wood. Alec had just finished replacing it.

As it turned out, Alec was very good at building things. Carpentry was exact. It required precise measurements, patience, and careful technique. Alec could do that. He mostly just repaired things around Magnus’s house, constantly trying and failing to make up for Magnus’s insatiable habit of buying him things and cooking him food. It was becoming an endless cycle of finding new, small ways of taking care of each other.

The sun was just beginning to set. A breathtaking rainbow of color cascaded across the water, reflecting the gentle, warm gradient of the sky above. Behind him, the quiet scrape of the glass door sliding open drew his eyes to an even more beautiful sight.

Magnus’s shirt was thin and white, and rippled on the breeze. He wore dark purple eyeliner that accentuated the yellow in his eyes. He was the most magical thing Alec had ever laid eyes on. Two drinks were in his hands. He set them on the sturdy, newly replaced balustrade.

The question came unexpectedly. One second Alec was looking at Magnus, admiring his silhouette against vibrant sunset, wondering how much longer he would have with this kind, charming, incredible man, and then he was speaking.

“What color was your magic?” he asked softly.

Magnus turned away from the display on the horizon to look at Alec with surprise. Then he smiled. It was warm and gentle and soft and so full of something Alec couldn’t identify that he had to look away. He returned to admiring the sun, which was now almost completely engulfed by the ocean.

“Blue,” Magnus answered quietly. “A very deep azure.”

The wind crept under Alec’s shirt, sending goosebumps over his skin. The temperature dropped quickly as the sun set.

“Like the ocean,” Alec murmured. The water darkened as he watched, extinguishing the fiery hues of the sky so it faded to soft purples and blues.

“No,” Magnus said softly. Alec turned back to him, and Magnus was _blushing_. He looked nervous, and Alec couldn’t possibly imagine why, until he added, so faintly that Alec could barely hear, “like your eyes.”

Tension crackled between them. Alec thought of all of those times Magnus had flirted with him, had teased him, had fostered that buzzing electricity that leapt between them in the silent moments and then just as abruptly let it dissipate between his perfectly-manicured fingers. He waited for the dismissal, the casual wave off, the joke, but it never came.

So he took a chance. He kissed him.

Magnus made a small, surprised noise, and Alec started to pull away. But then Magnus’s hands were on his neck and Magnus was whispering his name and tugging him closer, and it was all Alec could do not to send them both flying over the railing with how quickly he pinned Magnus against it.

He _did_ send their drinks flying. He hoped the glasses weren’t expensive. Magnus didn’t seem to mind—he was too focused on tugging Alec’s bottom lip between his, tugging at Alec’s hair, and _oh_ it was everything Alec had dreamed of and more.

“I’ve been waiting far too long for you to do that,” Magnus breathed when they finally broke apart.

“I—I didn’t think you’d wa—”

“Shhh,” Magnus hushed Alec’s dazed stuttering with a gentle finger over his lips. “Of course I do, darling. It’s all I’ve wanted.”

The sky was completely dark now. Alec hadn’t noticed it happening. There was no moon, and the deep black of the encroaching night left Alec feeling brazen and invincible. So he leaned down and kissed Magnus again, and again, and he decided that even if he couldn’t know where the future would lead them, he wanted this, here, now.

He wanted Magnus.


End file.
